The Absence
by poeticmaiden
Summary: Why was Sydney Carton in France just in time to save Charles Darnay? A oneshot about his discovery that the Manette/Darnay family had left for France.


The monotonous drum of two feet hitting the cobblestone pavement echoed off the calm brick houses that lined the street. Echoes… there were always echoes here, on this well-beloved corner. He remembered how often he had heard the echoes of his footsteps as he paced outside Her house late into the night, trying to pace away the pain of a life that was being wasted.

It had been a long time since he had last come here. He had kept his promise to Darnay: he hadn't abused this privilege he had asked for. In fact, it had almost been collecting dust. He couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly had kept him away – Stryver mostly, and his duties, and sundry other things that were of no importance. But now he was coming back, he would see her again, and her daughter – and her husband, of course. Her husband.

"It's no time to be sore about it, Sydney," he berated himself. "They've been married almost ten years now. There's no changing anything, and you know she'd never have been happy with you anyway."

He had lost her, but he had never had her to begin with. She had always been a dream like all the others, a vision of what his life could have been. But as he had been unable to act upon his other dreams, so too this one had slipped away until it was completely out of reach.

Why couldn't he listen to himself? Why couldn't he forget what was past and move on? Why was part of him still straining forward, reaching for that something that was just out of reach? How come he could never kill that part of himself that longed for a better life?

There, there was the house, rising in front of him out of the rows of orderly homes, looming bigger and grander in his mind than any of the others. As he saw it his feet slowed until he stopped altogether, and he just stood there looking up at it, at the welcoming front door and the charming little windows. Yes, it had been a long time. He wondered if any of them had missed him. No, probably not – who could miss someone like him?

He stared up at the one window that had once been the center of his attentions: the window to Her room. It was dark now – in fact, they were all dark. Odd. They should have lights on at this time of the evening.

Compelled by a rumor of fear that rose within him without reason, he walked up the steps and knocked on the door. He didn't have to knock, of course, but for some reason he felt he should.

No one answered.

He knocked again, but still no sound from the house within.

"They're all out on a holiday," he said to himself, trying to curb the fear. "They'll be back in a few days. You will just have to try again."

Still...

He walked over to the house next door and lifted the knocker. A maid opened it almost immediately. At sight of him, she took a small step backward.

"What d' you want?" she asked suspiciously.

_Unsavory characters like you don't normally go knocking on respectable peoples' doors, Sydney, _he reminded himself as he tried to smooth his disheveled hair into some semblance of order. "I mean to inquire after Mrs. Darnay next door: is she away?"

The maid wrinkled her eyebrows. "What d' you want with the likes of her?"

Sydney tried not to wince. _Not Mrs. Darnay! Charles, or the doctor, but not a married woman! _He pushed away his thoughts and answered, "I'm an old friend."

"Oh," the maid didn't sound to happy.

"Is she away?" Sydney repeated.

"They're all away," the maid answered cautiously. "Haven't you heard? They've been gone for months now."

"Months?" Sydney tried not to let his shock show in his voice. "How many?"

"Nearly ten months now. I'm surprised you haven't heard." She narrowed her eyes at him and looked as if she were considering slamming the door in his face.

Carton didn't have time to prove his validity to this maid. "Where to?"

"Paris," the maid shook her head. "I don't know what honest people such as them want over there, but I say it just ain't right – and with the child too! Don't they know what's been going on over there? I don't know about you, but that Mr. Darnay, he's always been a strange one - too much of the ugly French-talk in his voice. I hear he was even tried for treason once! They said -"

"Paris!" Carton interrupted. He felt himself go pale, but remembered his manners just in time. "Excuse me, but you did say Paris, did you not?"

"Of course I did! Where else would they be choppin' off heads like they was blocks of wood? Oh, they've fallen in with a bad lot, they have, to go to Paris! But as I was sayin' about the trial…"

Sydney raised his hand to stop her. "I know all about the trial, he said impatiently, deciding it was best not to mention his role in it. "Thank you for your time, I must be going."

Suspicion returned to the maid's face, but Carton didn't care. With a polite nod, he turned and walked away down the street, his previously aimless steps now sounding with purpose.

"Darnay!" he muttered under his breath, refraining from cursing for Her sake. "Darnay, what have you done? Returning to France and taking her with you! You've been a darned fool, Darnay!"

The echoing walls turned his footsteps to thunder as he stalked back down the street. It seemed as if his feet couldn't carry him fast enough. Time! There was not nearly enough of it to do what must be done! It might even be too late already!

He would tell Stryver that he would not be available for the next few weeks. No, he would need at least a month to straighten out a mess like this. Maybe two. He respected the doctor and Darnay, but he didn't trust them to get Her out of France safely. Why were they in France anyway? Had they just waltzed into that den of murderers of their own accord?

"Darnay," he spoke aloud to the empty street. "Do I have to get you out of every scrape you get into?"

The promise he had made so long ago now came to his mind as if it had just left his lips, and he knew that the time had come for that oath to be tested. Here was his task, and he prayed that in this he might succeed, though he had failed at all else he had tried to do.

He disappeared into the shadows of the night, bent on doing whatever he could to preserve the lives he loved.


End file.
